A Woman's Touch
by hatchlingpendragon
Summary: A twist in the tale. Perhaps if it weren't the wife who had died...
1. Chapter 1

The baby cried while the house burned, the sparks flew up in hot pinpoints like stars against the smoke that clogged the sky.

So much had gone so, so wrong...

Tears fell and dried and died over and over against a pale face as the little baby girl was clutched closer, slowly soothed from her fears in a familiar embrace.

For a while the figure simply stood on the hillock, dark and despairing, yet calm in its vigil.

More tears spilled before their creator blinked them away, to glare at the crowd that fled from the flames like rats as the main structure collapsed.

". . . Hush now, my love." was murmured softly with the barest quaver to the baby as the little one fell asleep, as the house was left behind with the graceful swish of a cloak. There would be no body to find when the ashes cooled: their kind never held high resistance to light and light's heat.

A safer place, they'd have to find a safer place, safer than here. Far, far from here. How far was far enough?

Grief chilled the heart and stung the eyes and laid raw the soul, but the baby was still here, and still needed love and safety and a parent. As this was thought, the chill turned into a slow, resolute burn, and all tears dried from the dusk-grey eyes, as a calculating brain already laid plans for future years.

For the child, all this would be for their child.

"Don't worry, my Mavis," Martha Lubov Dracula said quietly, cradling her daughter closer to her chest, "After tonight, we will not fear humans ever again..."

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

**Brief Note from the Author:** _Perhaps a dark start for a short story, but I promise for the ending to be sweet!_


	2. Chapter 2

The baby wasn't sleeping well today.

Martha had changed diapers, cuddled, coddled, and cajoled, but still held the sniffling infant to her, trying to soothe the stress away, but still the little girl quietly whimpered. This called for drastic measures. Martha grimaced to herself.

"Hush, little Mavis, don't make a peep," she finally sang, sounding almost deathly flat. She didn't have her husband's voice, but her daughter seemed to like it anyway.

"Mommy will be here until you go to sleep."

Martha began to smile, seeing those big blue eyes stare up at her, beginning to blink sleepily. She was probably boring the babe to slumber.

"And if a scary human disturbs your rest," she crooned, gently rocking the drowsy baby,

"Mommy will rip their heart right out of their chest..."

The baby giggled tiredly at the playful biting face her mother made, before finally falling asleep.

Martha smiles, feeling tired herself, before sighing, remembering how Mavis had her father's eyes...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"I'm going to get yo~ou! _I'm going to get yo~ou!"_

A shrieking peal of giggles carried through the small cottage as a little toddler shuffed frantically along the wall, her mother following in playful chase along the ceiling, the woman's giggle deeper in her mirth as she went to the floor, fingers arching, "I'm going to catch your toes, Mavis, look out for your to~oes!"

A sharp, delighted squeal signified Mavis's defiance, and Martha let out a breath as her daughter made it to the main room. Laughing tiredly, she rubbed at her lower back, wincing. _Aïe..._ Too much desk work and not enough sleep had made her spine as stiff as her coffin, "Alright, alright, let's...let's just settle down a bit, little blood pudding..." she decided wearily, swiping her hair back.

"What about out there?" her little one asked, and Martha's eyes widened as Mavis toddled to the open front door. How had that happened? A draft?

"Oh, no, no, no, baby," she said quickly, scooping her up away from the traitorous door, "_No_. We can't go out there yet."

"How come?"

Martha smirked a little, seeing her daughter already discovering a pouty bat face.

"The world isn't ready for you yet, Mavis," the countess told her with a kiss to the forehead, shutting the door with a flick of her wrist. Out of sight, out of mind.

"But one day they'll learn to behave," she assured the child, brushing at her soft, slightly scruffy black hair, the girl would need a trim soon, "And then you can play out there to your little heart's content. Alright, pretty wing? You just need to wait."

"Okay, Mommy."

Martha smiled, taking her back to the inner rooms of the house. She knew it wasn't _quite_ 'okay, Mommy'. Little girls were curious creatures, after all. Martha knew that very well. So the when the windows and doors were more firmly shut in the weeks to come, she just warned Mavis about the noise of construction, and the little girl couldn't find anything to argue about for this time.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Milady?"

"What, what?" she growled, in the middle of a flying lesson with her daughter.

The workman smiled at the bat, helmet held respectfully in his hands. Martha blinked, returning to humanoid form with a grin and a gleeful clap of her hands.

The hotel was finished!

"Take a roost, honey bat," she told Mavis, who was still fluttering cutely, "You're doing beautifully, but Mommy has to see someone about work now."

"Okay!"

"_How _is it?" Martha asked, trying to keep her composure as they went to the balcony, but can't keep the smile from her face.

"In the designs requested, milady, down to the cubic inch, and quite a beaut." the contractor told her. Her eyes brightened to silver as she scanned the grounds. "The defense systems are top notch, too," he went on to comment, "Got yer traditional forest barriers, legions of the undead..."

"And a path," she went on, still staring in the distance, searching for it, "You have included a path, yes?"

"Ye-es," the man said uneasily, "But if perfect isolation is what you'd want—"

"It's obscure enough to only be taken by those told of it _specifically_, is it not?" she snapped, blinking the brightness away with a roll of her eyes.

She smiled down at the contractor reassuringly when he nodded.

"Isolation has its benefits, sir," she told him patiently, "But _complete_ isolation is not my agenda... Thank you, you've done very well."

Everything was almost ready...

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"I'll only be gone for a few nights, my love," she reassured her daughter as the little one clung to her skirt, "You just be good and listen to your Auntie Wanda, okay?"

Mavis nodded, slightly using Martha's skirt as a tissue before allowing herself to be picked up by the slender werewolf.

"Wayne and I might not mind having a few pups of our own." Martha's friend commented kindly after putting Mavis in her coffin, going to the door to see the vampire off. Martha nodded, her smile nervous, "Thank you for coming out all this way, Wanda, it...it means a lot to me..."

Wanda's ears lowered in her worry, "Are you sure you want to do this?" she asked, "At least take a sword?"

She whined when the lady vampire shook her head.

"You will be coming back, won't you, Martha?"

Martha laughed, taking her friend by the shoulders to kiss her furry face, "Of course I will! I am a Dracula! Or, well, I'd married one." she added sheepishly, "You'll see, Wanda, this is the best thing that I can do for everyone." She glanced over the werewolf's shoulder to where her daughter would be sleeping. "Imagine it," she went on instead, excited at the thought, "To have no need for swords or shadows, to be able to show your lovely muzzle without fear, eh?"

She grinned at Wanda's self-conscious blush, patting her shoulder.

"When I get back, we'll discuss nurseries." she promised, before flying out into the night.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It took a long time to find the right town, and then more hours of searching until she located the specific people.

They were older now, she'd forgotten how fast they aged. But most of them were still alive, and still remembered very, very well once she refreshed their memory...

She corralled the tired, frightened old men to their town square with shadows and silent warnings. Other worried town dwellers were already lighting torches and trying to gather their pitchforks and sharp things, but would find them in a pile in the town square beside the guilty, having been stolen while they'd slept.

She did not smile as she stood on top of their fountain, over their heads, picking out these men's descendants in the crowd. Her face was hidden in the flickering light cast by the torches, like a grim sentinel she perched over them, seeing wide eyes turned up at her, glazed with fear and anger. The latter aspect would be gone soon.

She did not smile, but oh, how proud she felt.

"These men," she intoned, with a gesture to the line-up between her and the crowd, seeing their backs and shoulders cringe with age and fear, "Had committed a terrible, horrible crime. I'm sure you've heard the stories they've told? How heroic," she laughed, "How..._noble_, you think these men must be." She leapt from the fountain to land gracefully, showing no fear to the torches hesitantly thrust towards her. "It is always the winners," she went on, turning her back on the crowd to face the men, speaking to them now, seeing their eyes alight with recognition and terror, "Who write the tales, isn't it? Did you tell them how we paid for the livestock we took?" she murmured, "How we touched no hair on a human head other than those who would bring harm to this place? How you circled a house with torches and stones, how you knocked on a door and ran through with stakes the man who had answered, leaving a child without a father, and a widow without even a body to bury?"

She's calm. She's calm as she paces the line, looking each old man in the eyes, seeing the remnants of their disgust for her.

"But...perhaps it would be so long ago that you think it would not matter? Do you think it would not matter now?"

A wave of her hand magicked the torches from the hands of the crowd, with a scrape and clank of metal the pitchforks and sharp things arose to swarm in the air and herd them in, bringing shrieks and gasps and prayers from the townspeople as the torches hovered to cast confusing light.

"Tell me how much you think it would matter now." she said quietly, as everything turned its blade and edge to the lineup of men.

She grinned as some of them straightened under the threat, regaining their pride, clearly fearless in the face of their deaths. She liked that. Thoughtfully, then, the blades and edges turned _away_ from the men to aim towards the crowd, towards where she knew some of their children and children's children would be standing.

"Do you want to know how it felt," she murmured, now feeling their resolves break behind her.

She hears a few raspy old voices break out to plead and beg for the lives of their descendants.

_'It was us, not them, take us, not them!'_

"How it felt to be so..._helpless_...?"

She raised her hand, the weapons twirling readily in answer, her other hand shoving back the old man who'd made to tackle her without touching him, not looking around to see him as he stumbled back weakly with a screaming curse.

"But," she went on, curling her fingers and flinging her hand, and every blade and pitchfork was flung _away_ from the people into the depths of the night, scattered far and wide without a chance to be recovered, and not a drop of blood was shed, "I am not without my mercies."

She spun to face the men, seeing relief and confusion in their faces.

"I forgive you," she murmured, "For you knew not what you had done."

Then she straightened, smiling in their faces, "But still, I cannot forget this so easily." she went on to say, tilting her head and looking around the stunned people.

"Who leads you?"

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Their leader is a middle-aged man, tired and stressed, and unprepared for her while she had been prepared for this for _decades_.

It is an easy thing to negotiate, to feel out and solidify with ink and paper. There are plenty of witnesses to see that she makes this deal in complete honesty. Since the original men who committed the crime were physically unable to repay it, their descendants would, instead, and anyone else willing to ease her wrath on this small village. In later years this arrangement would bring a certain measure of protection and prosperity to the village in the process.

Martha takes very good care of what she values, after all.

So she now has workers for her hotel, devoting their lives in service to her, and when not their lives, then their deaths. Zombies make quite decent bellhops.

This will be a quiet arrangement for the first few decades, while the hotel earns its reputation in the monster worlds. For humans it would be a legend.

But humans are curious creatures by nature, investigative and nosy, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Her humans' descendants would be asked questions, and soon her legend and reputation would be made known to the human world. Humans both love and fear power, and it is clear that she has plenty of it, she becoming a force to not be slighted.

The human world would open its doors for her, in later years, and put on their best smiles in her presence.

And Martha would smile right back.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

**Brief Note from the Author:** _Not done yet!_


	3. Chapter 3

_In the year of 1996._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"I'm not seeing what is so disagreeable with this arrangement," Madame Dracula murmured, tilting her head to regard the poor representatives standing at the other side of her desk, "I've had all my forms checked to be legal, the health codes thus far are impeccable, and I've paid the required prices for the land, taxes included, everything according to the intended countries. This should be no more troublesome an undertaking than any other _human_ expansion. Why is my request to expand to a global chain still being," Martha smiled patiently, showing fang, seeing the few human men, and one woman, sweat.

"'Thought over'? I thought your people would be more efficient than this..."

They are all dressed alike, but Martha stands out. Her own suit is cut to form, slightly old-fashioned with a cravat of dark purple silk, and clearly expensive, partly concealed by a cloak with a collar that ended just under her jaw, her slightly curled hair is pulled back into a loose, conservative bun that frames her face and sharpens her eyes. She is a businesswoman of a vampire.

"It is not a question of procedure," the human woman decided to speak up, drawing the vampire's critical gaze to her.

"Your records and proposal are immaculate to process," the human went on respectfully, but after that her confidence began to flag under the slate gray stare, "But a few hiccups have turned up due to a few of your, um, staff..."

Martha raised an eyebrow, waiting for the woman to continue. But as she kept fidgeting, the silence began to stretch. Fortunately one of her associates saved her.

"The proposal has come into question due to the public image you present," he said, with a firmness that wasn't wavering. He was graced with the vampire's attention, "Or, more to the point, your, er, _unique_ policies on the human employment in your establishment..."

Ah.

Mrs. Dracula smiled.

"If they're concerned about the work requirements regarding humans," she said smoothly, "That particular contract I believe you're referring to is only being and only will be practiced in the _original_ hotel, and only to specific humans. No such arrangement will be involved anywhere other than here. The extended establishments will allow and hire human employment as 'normally' as any other like-business would."

"That is good to know," another man speaks up, having found his own words while she'd spoken, "But there are further questions related directly to that contract, and my people are also curious about your, ah, discrimination concerning allowed clientele."

It felt like the air had abruptly stilled.

'Discrimination'. She appreciated his lack of mincing words, but still, hmm, poor choice of words on his part.

"I allow humans to work for me," she replied politely, leaning forward slightly in her seat, "And pay them what I owe them for their services without distinction."

He perhaps didn't notice how his companions were slightly inching away from him.

"Yes, madam, but you don't actually let humans take advantage of your hotel." he said bluntly.

The man who who had discussed her human employment policies spoke up again, quickly trying to cover up the other man's mistake, almost stammering in his haste, "I was hoping to later discuss a few ideas you could use for a public relations progra—"

"No, no, I'd like to hear this." Martha interrupted, smiling softly, "A good manager always hears complaints. My choice bothers you?"

"It's blatantly racist," he continued in a polite tone of voice, "That humans can work for your service but not be able to receive benefits. It suggests poor workplace ethic."

If this silence had an image, it would be of closed, bared teeth belonging to an animal waiting to pounce from the tall, dark grass.

"'Racist'," Martha repeated slowly, rolling the word between her fangs, seeing the woman go pale. The vampire continued to smile, always smile, "I understand the concerns," she said kindly, "But, do tell me, how many of _your _people's establishments cater to humans _and_ monsters in the common human-based areas, hm? It doesn't even have to be a hotel, perhaps a restaurant or a place of entertainment?" She waited patiently through the ensuing silence, fighting to keep the smile from turning into a grin, "Oh, not even a swimming pool?"

Her eyes narrowed in amusement as the man reddened at the obvious jab. Not very professional, Martha chided herself, keep calm.

"Alright, how about employment opportunities then? How many human establishments will let monsters work for them...?"

She waits again through the silence that is his answer, feeling satisfied. He shouldn't have tried to play the 'race' card when she has a full deck.

"I hope that answers any further complaints." she finished in a clipped tone, straightening once more, and the room relaxes.

She turns to the other man, "You mentioned a public relations program?"

Her eyes dart to a crack in the door as the man tries to find his notes, and Martha's eyes widen at the bright blue eye she sees peeking through the opening.

"Uh—le-et's call an adjournment for now," the vampire said quickly, suddenly standing, startling her guests, and she turned to the man, "I will be very happy to discuss public relations further, and will be right back to arrange another meeting with you." she smiled brightly, the image of a hostess disturbingly quickly replacing the one of the negotiator, "Wait right here, and someone will bring you all refreshment!"

Dana was waiting patiently with her food cart just outside the door. All by herself.

Martha looked around frantically before turning to the zombie, "Which way?"

Dana pointed listlessly, and Martha thanked the zombie. "Serve them. Oh, and if they ask questions, just smile," Martha told her quickly, "And keep asking the man who looks like he smelled something bad if he needs anything, feel free to flirt a little, he's your type." Dana grinned knowingly. She was one of the quicker zombies, and more kept together, too, but knew how to ham up the 'undead' role. See how he liked her workplace ethic then.

Unprofessional, yes, but Martha had to get her kicks where she could, and if it was through Socratic irony, then so be it.

She caught up with her daughter in the next hall.

"Mavis," she sighed, seeing the preteen shuffle awkwardly in the hall, "What had I told you? You can't come near the office when Mommy's having a meeting."

"You're _always_ having a meeting..." the 101-year-old mumbled, staring at the floor, and Martha began to frown, until she blinked, seeing something different.

"Mavis?" she asked, leaning down to try and see her daughter's face more clearly, "Mavis, honey, what is on your face...?"

The young girl blinked, trying to avoid her mother's touch, "Uh, um, nothin'."

Martha's eyes widened as her fingers came away with a crumbly black powder, "Is that my makeup?"

"Dirt! Mud! Nothing!" Mavis protested, blinking garishly blackened eyes in the futile effort of the guilty trying to look innocent. She'd attempted to wipe away the stuff, but eyeshadow smeared on her cheekbones, practically ground into the hollows of her sockets, while lipstick smudged her lips and the little indent between her mouth and nose. Martha stared, before blinking once, twice.

Mavis jumped back in slight concern when the older vampire burst into laughter.

"You shu-heh...should—see!" the woman giggled helplessly, practically crippled while holding her stomach, _"You...yo-ou-look-like-a-little-raccoon!"_

"No I_ don't!"_ Mavis protested, but bursts of laughter broke her pouting as she watched her mother collapse under a fit.

When Martha finally recovered, still giggling, she guided Mavis by the shoulders, "Heh, oh-h, my, my, my cute, clumsy 'coon, let's go get you cleaned off."

"But your meeting...?" the adolescent asked.

"I have time." the mother replied gently, affectionately petting her daughter's hair.

. . .

"You're not mad, are you, Mom?" Mavis asked hesitantly, making a face as Martha worked a stubborn stain from the skin of her cheek.

"No," the woman replied softly, "I'm just sorry I've been so busy. Humans just have so many questions, and you know they're so _greedy_..."

Mavis frowned a little, the pout making Martha's work on the lipstick easier. Humans seemed to take up all of Mom's time...

"It'll be nice though," her mother continued to tell her excitedly, "Soon I can put more hotels in different places, and we'll have places for us all over the world! in a few more years we can go closer to Uncle Murray if we want, or the Steins, any time we want! Won't that be fun?"

"We get to see them here, though," young Mavis pointed out, unfortunately smudging more makeup on her face in the process of speaking, "Do you...have to do so much?"

_Yes!_ Martha wanted to tell her, _Yes, I've hardly done **enough**! _But she sees the look on her daughter's face and calms down, thinking.

"Tell you what, Mavis," she murmured to her daughter, kneeling to smile straight into those sweet blue eyes, "Tonight we'll have a 'Mavis and Mommy' evening! What do you think? We'll go out hunting, fly around the lake, and when we get back I'll teach you how to use makeup properly, okay?"

Martha waited as her daughter blinked at her, and then jumped when she was caught in a surprise hug, small, thin arms clutching and crinkling her cloak and suit, the gangly body of her child still yet untouched by womanhood. Martha laughed softly, hugging her daughter back, "Ah, that's a yes?"

"Yef, pweaf." was the muffled voice in her shoulder.

"Okay," the vampire sighed, smiling as she petted her little girl's hair, "I'm sorry that the humans take so much, Mavis, but you remember..."

Mavis nodded, backing up to recite dutifully a poem Martha had written long ago, "'They take and trick and twist the tales, but love and family prevails.'"

That had been a bad month when she'd written it, but it stuck with her.

"That's right!" Martha nodded proudly.

Then the girl's face fell a little, "But...they can't all be like that, can they? Can't I...?"

A few beats of silence, while the mother considers her daughter.

"You're not old enough to see them yet." she tells her gently.

"I know, but—"

"Mavis?"

". . . Yes, Mom."

And Martha knew it wasn't really 'Yes, Mom', and that young girls were curious creatures. So when she avoided the subject later on, Mavis wouldn't try to argue about it for this time, much. And with this time borrowed, Martha continued to plan.

Later the humans would be dismissed, and Martha would keep a card for when she wanted to contact the man's proposed relations agent. If she wanted to.

It was an interesting arrangement when they did makeup lessons, bellies full on mice and apples. Martha was careful to teach Mavis to apply by touch, demonstrating how each touch would look by having Mavis's face on a sketchpad, drawing it in every other motion to mark which touch went where. Sometimes Martha envied humans their ability for mirrors, it was like a strange power.

"Hey, Mom?" Mavis spoke up, after a light moment where Martha had made her laugh by making faces during applying her own makeup.

"Yes?"

"What was Dad like?"

Martha paused, while Mavis looked both cautious and curious. This wasn't the first time Mavis had asked about her father, but...

"You have his eyes," Martha told her softly, after a few moments silence, "Such a lovely blue." she watched her daughter self-consciously rub her own eyelid, blinking in that blue color that no shade of paint could ever recreate, "I think you have his hair, too, that straightness. We could find out if you'd like to let it grow...?"

"I like it short." Mavis mumbled, tugging at the strands that barely brushed her shoulders. They had a slight flip at the end that might suggest curls, but who knew.

Martha smiled, "And you have his voice, you sing so nice."

"He sang?" Mavis asked, surprising her mother.

"I hadn't told you?"

Mavis shook her head, then smiled sheepishly, "You don't sing, but...you write and draw and stuff and...Auntie Eunice told me how you used to dance."

Martha flushed, feeling self-conscious, "W-well, I'd hardly call it—"

"Do you have to dance with somebody? Is that it?"

"Let's finish your makeup." Martha decided quickly, fumbling with the palette.

"C'mo-on!" her daughter whined, then 'eep'ed when Martha held a finger to her lips.

"Time and place, dear one." her mother cautioned her sternly, and Mavis grinned cheekily behind her finger.

"Yes, Mom."

For the next big season, though, Martha wouldn't fail to notice how several guests—Griffin included and perhaps most prominently—would try to coax her to dance more than usual. She'd raise an eyebrow at Mavis who would be waiting almost inconspicuously in the background, seeing that sheepish smile.

Clever girl, definitely her mother's daughter...

But for now, she would put her daughter to bed, and consider the number of the relations agent.

She would call him, and ask about public relations.

It would be in the next year of 1997 that Hotel Transylvania would host its first human school field trips, starting with, of all things, elementary schools...


	4. Chapter 4

_Late in the year of 1996._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

The way the arrangement was laid out was simple and sweet, all things considered. For one Spring season every five years, Hotel Transylvania would be open as an optional destination for human tours and school field trips, with a road being open for them to use, that would be shut in-between those periods of time.

It was a surprisingly popular idea among the humans, considering the stigma monsters usually get, but there was obviously some controversy and discussion about the move that Martha's agent—recommended to her by the man who'd proposed the program—assured her was a good thing, after the vampire's outrage over a few articles alluding to her 'questionable diet'.

"I answered truthfully in that review! This isn't the 17th century anymore! What are they_ thinking?! _That I'd 'violate health codes to devour them in their sleep'?! _What?!"_

"It's good to be talked about and questioned, Mrs. Dracula, even if it's mixed. You know how dramatic the hype tabloids like to get, don't take them to heart," the human told her over the phone while she calmed down, she could hear the smile in the human's voice. Martha was calmed and grudgingly smiled at the next words and the challenge in them, "It makes for a greater impact and measure of satisfaction to prove 'em you're right..."

"So sure that I would, aren't you? That I'd prove it?" she'd replied dourly, humoring the girl's optimism.

She was one of the few humans Martha found a patience for, for her open-mindedness.

"I _know_ you will. Knock 'em dead, ma'am." The woman, 'Helen' Martha now remembered, then coughed, "Er, uh, not literally though, bad for PR."

Martha couldn't help but laugh at that, to her agent's unfortunate misunderstanding.

"Uh, heh, ma'am? Mrs. Dracula? Really, please, _don't _kill anybody..."

The consultation ended after Martha assured her poor agent that nothing sordid would occur. After she hung up the phone, Martha closed her eyes and enjoyed the few moments of silence, using it to consider her daughter. Mavis was understandably excited about the thought of officially seeing humans for the first time, but Martha was just as understandably apprehensive, and knew she'd have to put set up boundaries quickly.

It'd be stupid to outright _forbid _any form of interaction, but it'd be even more stupid to―

_"Hey, Mom!"_

Martha started back in her chair, gray eyes shooting open to meet the bright blue ones of the girl kneeling to literally hover over her desk.

"Sorry," Mavis went on, seeing her mother's stunned expression, smiling nervously with her mouth closed, moving closer with every word, "I waited but I wasn't too sure. Were you sleeping? I'm sorry if you were sleeping. Or, er, resting. Or something. But you weren't on the phone and things looked pretty cool and you didn't look busy so I thought it'd be okay to come and say hi and holy rabies, Mom, just _look...!"_

Finally Mavis breathed and properly opened her mouth, pointing to the slightly blunted tips of her training fangs while trying to watch her mother's face at the same time. Martha had recovered by this time, straightening up and laughing tiredly at her daughter's energy, leaning forward to look.

"Alright, alright, love, what am I seeing?"

The corners of Mavis's mouth turned up in a bared grin, and Martha watched as the girl gently nudged one of her fangs, and the tooth moved at her touch.

Martha's squeal went to the ceiling of the office as Mavis proved the looseness of her canine.

Mavis was happily flustered as her mother fussed between being giddy, practical, and, well, motherly.

"It's just this fang at the moment, right?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Is it sore? Any gum swelling or redness?"

"Uh-uh. 'Ell, nah 'eally..."

"After this one falls out the other one will start to loosen, you know. You can take your hand out of your mouth now. Ooh, let me look...!"

. . .

"Uh. . . Mah?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Canna ha' ma mouf ba' nao?"

"Your what? Oh! Yes, yes, yes, sorry."

Mavis was relieved from inspection but was promptly pulled across the desk into a tight hug, scattering things off the desktop to the carpet with muffled thumps.

The girl paused, a little taken aback, then giggled at her mother's clutching.

"Mom, it's just a tooth..."

"But you're growing up so fa-ast," Martha whimpered into her shoulder, "I'm so _happy_ yet so―!"

Mavis hugged her mother while the woman continued her muffled ranting for both praising her growth and ordering her to stop growing. She occasionally patted the cloak-covered back comfortingly, unable to stop a bashful grin at all this attention she'd often craved. And she hadn't even lost the tooth yet!

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_In the Spring of 1997._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

It was daytime, but they still managed to find a window that was shadowy enough to protect them while still getting a view. Martha kept a precautionary hand on her daughter's shoulder, practically feeling the girl bounce in place in anticipation for the buses of humans that would surely be coming any minute. Martha was obviously less than pleased, keeping her face schooled against the disgust she felt. Her hotel, this place of tranquility, this beautiful estate was being reduced to a _tourist attraction..._

She was both amused and despairing of her daughter's enthusiasm, of that naiveté she was partly responsible for, but she wouldn't let her conflict show.

"What are the rules?"

"Watch without being seen," Mavis said dutifully, showing a brief glance of the cute little gaps between her teeth that she was still embarrassed about, the points of her new fangs just beginning to show. They'd be finished growing in by next week. Her wide, blue eyes were glued to the distant road beyond the moat, at where it disappeared into the woods, "Caution at all times. Don't show them your back."

"And if they do see you?"

"Glare for five seconds then sweep away with over-dramatic dignity." her daughter went on flatly. Martha abruptly looked down and Mavis cringed.

"I mean, um, hold their eyes for five seconds then calmly leave." the girl mumbled, and Martha pointedly patted her shoulder, "But won't that show them my back?"

"They'll have seen your eyes first," Martha explained calmly, "And know they cannot hope to attack you."

"Do all humans really want to back-stab us?" Mavis asked uneasily, "I mean, you're nice, and monsters and humans get along now, don't they?"

"It's...it's complicated, love," the woman sighed, "Humans will seem sweet when they're small, but they're taught to fear us, and to fight the things they fear, or twist them to suit their own purposes. We're only lucky that they're civilised enough to control their base impulses. But that just means they're better at hiding it. They cannot help their thoughts. We know better than they, so we'll teach them, but until then," Martha caught her daughter's gaze, and held it pointedly, to momentarily distract her from the bus coming down the road, "You will not be relaxed around humans, Mavis. Understand?"

Confusion in the young girl's eyes, excitement, unease, and uncertainty, and then submission.

"Yeah."

Martha kissed her daughter's forehead, before letting her see the buses pull into the cul-de-sac, and the air began to fill with the sound of children and the adults that began to make attempts to herd them, "I have to go greet them now. Behave and be wary, Mavis."

Mavis nodded silently, eyes wide and palms pressed to the glass as she sees more humans than she ever has before. A lot of them were so _short_...

How could things this cute become so bad?

Martha saw how her daughter still could see no wrong, and sighed to herself. Mavis would need to learn, eventually, about how treacherous humans could be, no matter how polite or genial their smiles seemed. Martha would teach the girl, of course. But for now, Mavis wanted to enjoy something new, and Martha had work to do. She left her daughter at the window, before calling up the knight system to prepare for the tours.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Good morning, and welcome to Hotel Transylvania. Congratulations to you all on being the first to partake in its grand tour." Martha greeted from the stairs, wearing a kind, controlled smile that showed her fangs, seeing the crowd of humans shift in the lobby, staring at her with wide eyes. There were mostly children, with parents and teachers and the occasional photographer, while smaller groups composed of families or individuals stayed at the back. Even as she spoke she heard the clicks and caught the flashes of cameras. It had been interesting and somewhat unsettling to discover that vampires could show up on film, digital or otherwise, but her agent, Helen, had told her this would make Martha easier to relate to. There were already murmurs as they looked around, and at her. It was different, reading about vampires and monsters, and then meeting one for real.

"I hope that your trip was pleasant," she went on, "And that your day here will be enjoyable. I am Mrs. Dracula, the founder and manager of this hotel. This will be simple. You will all be guided by a knight from my knight system. Gentlemen?"

From all around came the chorus of "Yes, ma'am!"

The suits of armor marched out in file to the rising murmurs of the humans, standing before them to first bow to the vampire, and then salute their audience with a gentle clatter and clash of metal. Some of the children were uneasy, whimpering at the sight of the metal men, before being quickly soothed by their guardians. Martha winced internally. Human though they were, children were children, and she never liked seeing one in distress.

"They will show you the grounds and main areas of interest of the hotel, and feel free to ask them questions or inform them if you find a problem. Do keep in mind to stay with your designated guide at all times," she cautioned, and then added with a slightly more wry smile, "And do be sure to stay quiet unless it is necessary. We do have some guests that still sleep at this hour, after all."

She scans the crowd again, and then blinks when she finds a human woman at the back of the lobby who was staring most pointedly at her. With a smile.

"Welcome to Hotel Transylvania once again," the vampire continues smoothly, as the knights begin to organize their groups, "I hope you enjoy your time..."

With a flourish she is a large bat winging over the humans' heads, ignoring their gasps before they are herded to their tour guides. Martha's bright orange-red eyes flash as the woman continues to watch, and she discretely flies to perch on the human's shoulder.

"Helen, I'm guessing?" she asks nonchalantly, and indeed her PR agent nods, clearly unsettled.

"Good to finally meet you, Mrs. Dracula, you did wonderfully. Smile could've used some work, though." Helen laughed, as the lobby began to empty.

"Of course I did," Martha said matter-of-factly, becoming a human to stand with the woman, "You had me recite that speech to you for weeks. And we never covered anything on 'smiles'."

Martha stared shrewdly at the woman. At first she'd mistaken the redheaded woman as 'plump', but the swell of her stomach told something otherwise.

"Congratulations are in order, I'm guessing?" the vampire continued, loosening slightly from her formality, "I hadn't known to expect you on the first tour."

"Thank you. This one will be my fifth, or, well, fifth _and_ sixth, two-for-one package," Helen said warmly, proudly patting her stomach over the vampire's spluttering, Martha had forgotten about human's reproduction rate, rivalling werewolves.

"And I find that you can see the best of people when they think you're not looking. You're doing very well."

"There are _more_ of you?" Martha asked incredulously.

"Yes, in fact, I brought the whole family along for this business trip, my husband felt better about it," Helen mentioned, and began gesturing to the different age groups, and another red-haired adult, "There he is. A few of my kids are here, too, for the tour. I can count one...two..." she frowned, "There's the third and―wait, is that one mine? That one's not mine."

"It's not?" Martha tried to see, but all the short ones looked the same to her. Short, sticky, and squeaky.

Helen blinked, then sighed, "That kid... Eh, well, the little squirt will show up. He's quite the explorer, you know."

Martha stared at her agent.

"As long as he stays away from the kitchens..." Martha said carefully. She still wasn't sure if her chef had caught on to the 'humans-aren't-food' policy.

"He what?" Helen asked, still scanning the crowd.

"Nothing, nothing, yes, he'll be fine! He has your hair?"

"All of mine do." Helen laughed nervously, and both women suddenly saw how many redheads were in the crowd of children.

The vampire felt like her eye was twitching. It was a good thing for humans that they reproduced so quickly, evidently.

"Right. Lovely to meet you and, er, see your offspring, Helen, but something suddenly requires my full and immediate attention."

Martha promptly left to keep an eye out for a short, sticky, squeaky boy with red hair who happened to belong to her public relations agent.

It would be _very_ bad for PR if an unfortunate accident happened on the first day.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis was not panicking. Or screaming. Or running. Nope, none of the above.

Not panicking at all that this thing had found her and that it wasn't. Going. Away.

She doesn't know what she did wrong, but she's thinking her mom would be so mad. She was sure she hadn't gotten too close, just enough to get a peek at all the little kids before the knights gathered them up, okay, cool, she saw humans, and would get to peek some more throughout the day, awesome. But the next thing she knows, she's some distance away when she turns around to notice that one of them had been following her. He was short like little kids were, kind of chubby, with a snubby nose, brown eyes, freckles, and a lot of reddish looking hair, and he just kept staring up at her with a smile.

She'd tried the stare, stared really hard for five seconds, and watched his eyes widen and blink, and he dropped the smile. Okay, cool, he was intimidated and wouldn't try to attack her later. She'd walked away, only to hear little feet following. She turned around quickly, and the kid was right there, smiling again. Kind of creepy. She tried the stare again, and he just stared right back. That was when Mavis realized that little human kids were kind of adorable and that this one clearly wasn't getting the message.

"Um," she crouched down to the little boy's level, wincing, "Um, look, you're not supposed to be here, okay? And, uh, I'm not supposed to even be talking to you. So you need to go, go away now, like, shoo." She pointed back to where they'd come from, "Back to your own kind. To your...your pack? I get that right?" She frowned in thought as the kid blinked, "No? Your flock then? Your swarm? C'mon, what's a group of you call―you know, no, never mind. Just, uh, well, it was nice meeting you, but goodbye."

Satisfied with that, Mavis got up, brushing off her knees and walking off again. But the little boy still followed.

She turned around to glare, panic rising.

"I, as a superior species, command you to return to your herd, tiny thing!" she told him hastily, throwing out words she'd heard from her mother's rants over the phone.

She slumped when the kid just giggled. This wasn't working.

"Fine, do what you want, just don't pin it on me." she grumbled, stomping up the wall.

That finally got a rise out of the boy. Mavis glanced down at him from over her shoulder when she heard him gasp, as he stared with what looked like awe.

Bemused, she turned to walk backwards up the wall, before sitting to see what he'd do.

Staring at her, the kid stepped up to the wall, and put his hands on it, before making like he planned to pull himself up the stone by his hands. Seeing that whatever he was trying to do wasn't working, he backed up as if to step up onto the wall, stepped up, and fell heavily on his back with a _thud_.

Mavis couldn't help a laugh at the stunned expression, before shutting up when she saw tears start pricking at his eyes.

"Ah, sorry, geez, sorry that was bad, you okay?" she stammered, going back down the wall to make sure he wasn't broken.

He quickly nodded, sitting up to rub the back of his head, quickly wiping at his eyes, "I'm okay." he mumbled, before giving her a bright crooked-toothed smile.

Mavis blinked, taken aback that he actually spoke, he sounded kind of squeaky, before smiling back. She quickly stopped smiling when she remembered the gaps in her own teeth. She tried to look at him closely without looking like she was looking at him, he seemed alright.

She sat back a little, not quite at the floor yet, to wave at him, feeling awkward, "Um, what's your name?"

"I'm Jon'than." the kid replied, waving back and wiping off his nose at the same time, before looking at her properly, "Are you Spiderman?"

Mavis blinked.

"Spider-what?"

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Martha was calm, she was collected, serene, and in control. Or at least that's what she kept telling herself under her breath as she ran down the halls to the chorus of 'do not disturb's, she still had no idea why she hired those shrunken heads. She tries so hard to keep things in order and then variables turn up.

Why couldn't a plan ever go according to plan?

She almost ran into her daughter a few halls down, and blinked when the girl jumped straight, holding her hands behind her.

Martha smiled nervously, "Mavis, honey bat, how are you doing? Are you okay?"

"'Es. No. Nothing, not doing anything." the girl squeaked. Then slumped, "Mom, I...I know you're gonna freak out, but..."

Mavis showed she'd been holding a small boy behind her back, propping him on her hip slightly possessively, and Martha recoiled.

"I know it looks bad!" Mavis said quickly while the child smiled cutely at the older vampire, "But he followed me and, geez, he's freaking adorable and, Mom, I-I know this is sudden, but can I keep this one? Humans make more humans all the time, don't they? They wouldn't miss one, right? He's just a small one, I can keep him in my room and we can teach him to be good and―"

Martha held up a hand, silencing her daughter, pinching the bridge of her nose. The first freaking day of this endeavor...

The first.

Freaking.

Day.

"Mavis," she started quietly, "Honey―no, don't give me the face―this child belongs to a mother, who would miss him very much."

Martha's sure the woman would miss one, honest.

"And humans just don't belong here. He's small, yes, but he can be taught, you say? Who knows. But humans grow, and can't be kept in safety. I had _told_ you not to―..."

Martha kept her face blank at Mavis's slowly falling expression, before the young girl couldn't meet her mother's eyes.

The child was looking between the two vampires, a confused expression on his face.

"I'm disappointed." Martha continued reluctantly.

She watched her daughter flinch slightly.

"It's..._good _that...you found a small one... But I'm sorry, you can't keep him. They don't stay small, or sweet. It'd be best," Martha moved forward carefully, hands gently outstretched, "That you forget about this one, alright? Let me return him to his mother. Give me the boy, Mavis."

Mavis glanced at her mother, from where she'd been staring at the floor, then at the child, before biting her lip, and obediently holding the child out for her mother.

If Martha took the boy a little quicker from her daughter than was necessary, neither of them commented on it.

"Go back to your room, please," Martha continued calmly, automatically shifting the child to her hip, "I think you've seen enough today. We'll talk later."

Mavis waited, before nodding once, slowly, "Yes, Mom... I'm sorry."

Martha nodded, and turned to go back to where Helen would be waiting in the lobby.

Mavis looked up to see Jonathan looking back at her over her mother's shoulder. Jonathan smiled at her, and waved.

The young vampire froze, before quietly, hesitatingly waving back, and then going back to her room.

A little bit of confusion, a little bit of hurt, and a tiny nugget of anger.

She kicked at her door frame on her way back in, to her door's shrunken head's displeasure, before listlessly landing face-first on her bed.

_No, Mom, that was **not** okay!_ she wanted to yell. What had been so bad about a little human boy? He'd been _adorable!_ What the _heck?!_

So, for perhaps the first time, Mavis did not like her mother.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Martha walked calmly along the hall, hyper-aware of the warm little weight she was holding to her waist.

She glared at the child in question, who was looking uncomfortable, but docile.

"You are lucky you are small," she decided to tell the boy flatly, "And defenseless. And that you have no idea what I talk about."

The boy blinked at her, and she rolled her eyes, unable to hold any real anger against a child.

"You will remain a chubby marshmallow when you grow up," she decided, disgruntled, "And have poor success in human courting."

The boy proved to be a poor conversationalist, remaining silent as the vampire continued down the hall.

Well, at least it proved he had some survival instincts.

"And your mother will put you on a _leash _until you reach your kind's adolescence."

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Two main things would come out of this brief meeting of innocence between the species.

One would be journal, starting with the memories of finding out what 'Spiderman' was and answering all kinds of little human boy questions.

Another would be a picture, drawn by a five-year-old-going-on-six's hand for class, on what they found interesting at the hotel for monsters.

It would use a lot of black, be titled 'I met Spider-lady', and be of a little stick figure that looked like it was walking up a wall.

A stick figure with a skirt and a very distinct black haircut.

The stick figure would be walking up the wall with a smaller stick figure who looked like a broom with the shock of red hair drawn on it.

In what looked like a last-minute touch, a big heart was sloppily drawn around the two in an eye-searing pink crayon.

Helen had decided, upon seeing the picture, that it would be best _not_ to tell Martha about this particular development.

Besides, the two would forget about each other eventually.

Right?


	5. Chapter 5

_Five years later, in the year of 2002, New Year's winter._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Martha swept into the room next to her office, her bedroom.

"Good evening, dear." she sighed tiredly in passing to the partially covered portrait that took up a good part of wall. Her deceased husband's cheerful blue eyes beamed out at the viewer. She looks at the portrait, feeling the wistful tug at the corners of her mouth. How could she not help but smile back at that?

"Today is busy. As it often is." she went on, feeling slightly less stressed, sitting down to take care of writing a letter. Some things could still be done in the old-fashioned way, thank goodness. She hated dealing with computer screens for messages, getting the most unimaginable headache with their light. At least the screen lights garnered easy moths at times.

"Your daughter is getting...rebellious."

She made a face to herself, pausing with the pen. "No, no, best not complain. This is probably just a...a phase. It's just―she keeps trying to sneak things past me all the time, she tries to listen to their music lately. I found a CD under her pillow! They spelled 'Beetles' wrong, and there were no insects in any of the lyrics! And the lyrics are just bizarre!" She propped her chin on her hand, feeling frustrated, "The song where one of them was a walrus was kind of amusing, though..." she shook her head quickly, "But what am I supposed to do? She's becoming," she cringed at the word, "A _sympathizer_..."

Doesn't the girl remember anything Martha tells her any more?

"Is it attention that she's seeking? I do try to spend time with her," Martha went on quietly, "It's just hard when I'm so busy..."

"Ma'am!"

She jumped at the sudden exclamation, glaring wearily at a suit of armor, "What is it?" she asked irritably, remembering her stress.

"It is nothing, ma'am," he saluted, "With all due respect just commenting that it is very creepy when you talk to yourself, ma'am!"

A few beats of silence pass where she stares at the servant.

The armors couldn't express themselves per se, but she was sure this one would be sweating, with the way he was rattling. She sighed, "Find yourself a red, pointy hat, wear it, and go pretend to be a lawn gnome ornament somewhere near the courtyard for a month while rethinking your existence."

"R-right away, ma'am, thank you, ma'am!" the armor squeaked with genuine gratitude before fleeing the prospects of a worse punishment. She'd chastised similar comments with equally inane tasks, for example having another suit of armor in question stand on the castle's roof to be a lightning conductor, or another time having one of them pose as a statue in the gardens, which according to the armory gossip 'wasn't too bad of a gig except for all the bloody pigeons'. They were probably unconventional and unusual means of punishment, but she had to get her kicks where she could. She propped her chin on both hands, now distracted from her task.

"I just don't know where I'm going _wrong_..." she sighed unhappily.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"I just don't get what I'm doing wrong!" Mavis complained to her mirror, which showed only the room behind her, "Any time! Any time I want to get some perspective she just...squishes it!" She turns, making a slightly sweet, cynical expression, "Mavis, of _course_ you may interact with humans, but only if they are dead or serving us or under my control. _Bleh!_ No music beyond the classical, it will poison your mind. _Bleh!_ No dressing in such gaudy colors, do you want to be a target? _Bleh!" _She threw her hands up in finality, stomping towards the wall, "Bleh, bleh, _bleh!"_

She stepped on a picture on her way up the wall, in what was a slightly more intentional than absent-minded gesture, before laying on the ceiling.

"Mom's at a meeting," she sighed as she began ticking off on her fingers, in a quieter, more resigned tone, "Mom's having a phone call, Mom's having a wrathful breakdown, Mom needs to have a rest in peace, Mom's having a staff review, your mother's dealing with a business conference..." the list gradually went on until the girl ran out of fingers. She laid back on the ceiling, staring at the floor, chewing her bottom lip between her full-grown fangs.

"Bleh..."

Okay, maybe she was being a little unfair. A hotel was a big thing. But sometimes it seemed like the hotel stuff took more of Mom's attention than humans did. Or a combination of the two, humans and hotel. She was going to be turning 108 this year, and was actually looking forward to it, when she'd get some real, business-free girl time with her Mom, and maybe her aunts. Maybe this year she could ask again if maybe she could go to a human town, on her own. She traveled once with her Mom on a PR tour, but she hadn't been allowed to do _anything _or see _anybody _and it had been so boring to just wait in the hearse between stops and during interviews, with just the knights to talk to. They had a few hotels cropping up throughout Europe now, but Mavis always had to stay at the one in Transylvania. Last she heard, Mom was discussing opening up another chain in the Americas. No doubt Mavis wouldn't be allowed to have any fun there, either. If she could see one, just _one _human town with humans her Mom didn't scare the crap out of, she'd be content. Honest.

"I'm not 'scaring' them, that's not done any more. I'm intimidating them," Mom had told her, surprised that she wasn't getting such a 'simple fact'.

"Otherwise they will think we're weak."

"What's wrong with at least being a little friendly?" Mavis had complained, "You keep saying monsters and humans are equal, so why are humans so-o-o bad, huh?"

"Because _they_ don't see _us_ as equals," Martha snapped, and Mavis knew she was trying the older vampire's patience.

"They aren't... It's complicated. You'll understand when you're older."

"But I'm older _now_."

"Older than now."

"_Mom._"

"_Enough_, Mavis," the woman snarled, then quickly balked when she realized she'd almost roared at the girl, and her expression had softened, ". . . I'm sorry. It's...it's been a long day, honey bat. Here, why don't we go hunting for scorpions tonight? Would you like that?"

Mavis had stayed silent, standing there, glaring at the edge of the desk.

Martha sighed, "I'll ask again later, then. Why don't you go practice your needlework?"

An irate little bat flapped out of the office, with the parting grumble of "It's _always_ a 'long day'..."

Martha had gently faceplanted her desk, silently praying that this was just a phase the girl was going through.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Okay, so stuff wasn't so cool between Mavis and her mom. She'd quietly, subtly pester while her mother would sternly, not so subtly say 'no'. The human tours were Mavis's advantage. She was careful not to let any kids follow her again, but she'd sneak around and watch the humans. There were a lot of varieties in age, and a lot more _of_ them once word had spread around from the first tour. Some of the hotel guests interacted with these tours, too, and while some of it was awkward or strained, it seemed fine for the most part. Then she found Quasimodo, wheeling/riding a cloth-covered cart down the hallway, the Esmerelda rat in tow.

Mavis frowned. The goblin usually stuck to the kitchens, leaving the room deliveries to his 'incompetent underlings', though he did seem to get a little antsy around the time of the human tours. She'd admit she was curious. She appeared in front of him, smiling, "Hey, Modo!"

He stopped, looking startled, before smiling cheerfully, "Ah, bonjour, little Miss Mavis! Uh, can I help you?"

Mavis shook her head, peering at the cart's cloth curiously. Was it moving? Quasimodo kicked it, a bright smile still on his face.

"I was wondering if you wanted help, actually," she mentioned, blinking when Esmerelda began squeaking frantically, "Is she okay?"

"Esmerelda is fine, oui!" Quasimodo answered quickly, beginning to maneuver the cart around the girl, "She is just, uh, reminding me that we have some place to be quite quickly for quite important, imperative things, but I am in no need of help, merci, so if you would just excusez-moi!"

Now Mavis was perched on the cart, tilting her head to listen to the distinct muffled sounds that came from it.

"What's the hurry?" she asked politely, raising an eyebrow, "Quasi...?"

"It is just one!" the chef exclaimed, throwing up his hands, "A scrawny, insignificant one! No one appreciates my artistic vision for cuisine, Miss Mavis, I beg of you!"

"We don't eat guests," Mavis pointed out patiently, "And humans aren't on the menu any more, I'm sorry. Look, if you just let the human go now, I won't tell Mom, okay?"

Quasimodo looked crestfallen, before scuttling off with Esmerelda, muttering things in French that Mavis couldn't make out. It was kind of sad.

She looked down at the cart she stood on, hopping down to crouch next to it. It muffled something in question. "Sorry 'bout that," she told it sheepishly, "I can't be seen with you, so I'm gonna leave you in there to keep things on the downlow. I'll let you out when we're near your own kind, okay?"

The cart's occupant muffled in affirmative.

She wheeled the cart gently back down the hallway, slightly chewing on her lip. Yeah, best not to be caught with a human in the hallway for a second time.

Mom would definitely not approve.

When she found a secluded alcove near enough to the lobby, she took off the cloth, and blinked at the captive.

"You?" she uttered, meeting his eyes, feeling a strange shock.

"You!" the redheaded boy said happily, after she took the gag and restraints off, "Spider-lady!"

Mavis stood back, stunned as he uncontorted himself from the cart, "Okay, _not_ the best ride ever, next time I'll ask a knight-guy for the bathroom..." and she blinked again when he stood, she backing up a little. His head was level at her shoulder now. He couldn't be called tall by any means, but still... He grinned up at her. He had glasses, had lost the chubbiness, could definitely be called scrawny, and his teeth were crooked, "Hi!"

"Hey," she mumbled, ". . . Johnny?"

He seemed excited, "You remember!"

"You grew." she said flatly, and he blinked.

"Well, yeah," he looked at her shoulder, frowning, then shrugging, smiling, "Not as tall as you yet, though."

"But it's only been..." she stopped that sentence, shaking her head, smiling uneasily, "No, um, y-you should go back now."

Johnny blinked, "Why?"

"Because you're not supposed to see me." she explained still startled by what wasn't such a little boy any more, "Uh, nice to see you, and, um, good bye, Johnny."

She began to walk away, but heard him stumble after her, "No, hey, wait, Spider-lady!"

"My name's _not_―" she began, turning around, to receive a 10-? 11?-year-old kid to the stomach, "_Oohf!_"

"Sorry!" he said quickly, backing off while she got her breath back.

"S'okay... Name's not 'Spider-lady'..." she wheezed, before straightening up, shaking her head tiredly. "My name's Mavis." she corrected him.

Johnny blinked, "Mavis is a cool name." he decided, smiling happily. Mavis felt a strange warmth in her face when he held out his hand, "Nice to meet you, Mavis!"

She gingerly shook his hand, "Uh, nice to meet you, too, Johnny." she mumbled.

He nodded, a faint grinning blush on the boy's face, "Okay." He shook her hand again, his hand was almost as big as hers, and then he began walking back down the hall, backwards, still grinning at her, waving, "But yeah, you're right, I should get back before my mom freaks. Thanks for the save! See you later, Mavis, okay?"

The young vampire waved uncertainly, "Bye, Johnny."

They both kept awkwardly waving until he disappeared back into the lobby. Mavis stood there for a moment, before clapping her hands to her face, feeling the shock.

"Holy rabies." she mumbled, eyes wide, and then a small tremulous grin spread on her face, "Holy rabies!"

She fled back down towards the hall to her room, and the hallway was empty.

From the shadows of the alcove Martha stepped out, looking quietly displeased. She would have to have a word with her relations agent.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Mavis's thoughts were like this.

Friendly, freaking adorable little―mixed feelings. Was Mom wrong?

Hah, Mom was wrong!

Was Mom wrong, though?

Was Mavis right?

Mavis was in so much trouble.

Mavis should keep quiet.

Holy freaking rabies that had been incredible!

Mavis was a giggling little mess on her way back to her room, thinking of a new entry for the journal, titled 'I Have A Human Friend'.

She wouldn't see Johnny again during this tour, and she wouldn't see him at all during the one five years from then. She suspected Mom had something to do with it, but she knew she couldn't ask, and she knew Mom wouldn't answer. But that one brief meeting with that one little boy would be a bright little blot of hope in her otherwise frustrated, gradually down-spiralling journal entries. She and her mother would get along, for the most part, though they would have their differences and their arguments. Mavis and Martha would both enjoy the young girl's birthday, and discussions about humans and the interactions thereof would be kept to a minimum. But just because something isn't spoken about, doesn't mean it's not there. That would be very much evident come the young vampire's 118th birthday, ten years later.


	6. Chapter 6

_10 years later, early in the month of September.  
_

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Good evening, love." Martha said, giving an affectionate rub to the girl's hair after her daughter kissed her cheek.

"Evening, Mom." Mavis replied, happy she got to catch her mother at breakfast this time, snagging some grub cakes for herself. Not quite as awesome as worm cakes, but nice enough, "Uh, what's your night look like?" she asked, sitting across from the older vampire, taking a bite from one of the muffins after spreading mouse jelly on it.

"It's light," Martha assured her, watching for that small smile on her daughter's face, "Two more weeks." the woman continued excitedly. Both sets of eyes were brighter at the prospect, equally excited, they both loved the girl's birthdays. After they finished their breakfasts, Martha's face fell a little, "Two more weeks..." she repeated, her smile turning misty-eyed.

Mavis chuckled, nudging her own plate aside, "Mom, c'mon, it's just another birthday, right?" Her mother stared at her with an eyebrow raised, and Mavis couldn't keep it in, finally grinning widely, "Alright, so it's gonna be a totally _awesome_ one that I've waited for-what-feels-like-_ever_ for."

"Of course." Martha sighed, smiling, fork idly picking at the remnants of her milkweed omelet, "You'll have to give me a birthday list soon, you know." she adds.

Mavis nodded, finishing her breakfast, then bit her lip, smiling hopefully, "Yeah, uh, about that, I kinda have something in mind already, if..."

Silence ticked for a few seconds, before Martha finally looked up to take in her daughter's obviously hopeful expression.

"You want to go out into the world on your own, I know," Martha said idly, "The answer is no."

"I knew you were gonna say thaaat..." Mavis groaned, faceplanting the table.

"Oh, stop that," Martha chided, rolling her eyes, "And face _out_ of your food, you are eating from a plate, not a carcass. _How_ old are you turning again?"

"Old enough!" Mavis protested, lifting her head quickly, "Mom, I'm turning _118_, I can drive a _hearse_. I think I'm getting a little old for parties anyway. Don't you think it's about time I did something by _myself_ for a change?" She saw her mother's frown and quickly calmed down, changing tactics, "I mean, I'll be inheriting the management of the hotel eventually." she said, putting on a look of concern, "I should start, you know, trying to put myself out there as myself, make my own rep."

"One, it's 'reputation', not 'rep', and those are more earned than made," Martha corrected, chin on her hand as she regarded her daughter wearily. It was too early in the night for this, "Two, are you so eager for me to get old _that _quickly?"

_"No_, that's not what I - _Mom_," Mavis protested, "If not for business, j-just for study, then? I...I could hide my fangs and stick to walking on just the floors and―"

"An even worse idea." Martha cut her off, "Humans. Are. _Dangerous_, Mavis. Even to their own kind. They'd be even more so if they realized your attempts to trick them, interpreting it as an attack. They would have guns, knives, flamethrowers, devices of torture, secrets... And I wouldn't be there to save you. Perhaps you'll be old enough for some things, but in this? You're not ready."

". . . When _will_ I be ready, then? And if humans are so freaking bad, why do you keep them?" Mavis asked plainly. It always came to that question. Even as they spoke, a mix of zombie and gargoyle staff were filing in to begin cleaning up the dishes. Some of the zombies were considered 'fresh' by certain standards. Both vampires watched each other.

"You'll be ready," Martha said quietly, "When I decide the world is ready for you."

"Seems to be taking a while." Mavis grumbled.

"The Great Wall wasn't built in a decade, sweetie. As for them," she gestured bluntly to the undead workers, a genuine smile of gratitude and what might have even been pride on her face as one politely took her plate, "These ones are different. They are loyal to me. I know them, I own them, I control them. Therefore I can trust them. They're the only humans we can trust."

Which was as good as saying that they could trust humans over their literal dead bodies.

Mavis watched as one of Mom's favorite zombies, Dana - Mom said she never picked favorites, but Mavis knew better - nodded indulgently at the vampire, almost sadly smiling. The young vampire then looked at her mother, "When can I have my own humans, then?" the girl asked.

Martha's smile widened a little, her daughter was thinking along the right lines, "When _you _can be trusted to take care of and control them."

Mavis's face fell, "How can I learn how to take care of 'em if I can't even interact with one?!"

"You've interacted with plenty." Martha pointed out.

"Only with you around. Not on my own." Mavis pointed out in turn, growing stubborn.

"What difference should that ma―?"

"It makes every difference!" Mavis complained, standing, getting frustrated, "All _they_ see is _you_."

Martha frowned, not pleased with where this conversation was turning, "Now slow down a minute―"

"For crying out loud I might as well be standing in front of a _mirror_," her daughter went on, "'Cause when I'm with _you _all anyone _else _sees is the _daughter of Dracula._"

"And that's what they _should_ see." Martha snapped, then balked when she realized that hadn't sounded as she'd wanted it to, "I mean...you as...a Dracula..."

Mavis stared, frustrated, disappointed, and the heavy silence was awkward as the servants decidedly were _not_ hearing what was going on. Not at all. Nope.

"I'll send you my birthday list later, then..." the girl mumbled, the picture of submission as she dragged her feet out of the dining hall.

Martha stared at the door, then faceplanted the table, steadfastly ignoring the plate inches from her head before it was taken away.

This time she'd really done it.

"One week," she growled hopelessly into the table cloth, "Can't we go _one week_ without this argument?"

Dana patted her cloaked shoulder in sympathy, "Tee'njurrsh..." the zombie slurred in amusement.

"Tell me about it." the countess grumbled unhappily.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Glad you could make it!" Mavis's doorknob hanger sassed.

"How is she?" Martha asked calmly.

"'Kay, whatever you did, you better fix it fast, that's all I'm sayin'." the shrunken head sniffed disapprovingly, "The child's goin' _bats_." Martha stared at the thing, clearly unamused, and the head rolled the eyes she didn't have, "Hon, don't blame _me_, you left that wide open." was the only thing the head said in apology.

Martha rolled her own eyes in return, "Yes, yes, I have it covered. Just relax." she told it, before going into her daughter's room.

"Mavis?" she said softly, walking in carefully, "Mavis, honey? You haven't been down for lunch..."

She saw the nibbled-on rabbit bones on the windowsill, feeling reassured that at least the girl had eaten _something_.

She found Mavis lying on her bed face-down, a piece of paper in her hand titled 'Birthday List'. The sheet is blank. Mavis showed no sign of acknowledging that her mother had come in. Martha sighed, moving to sit next to her daughter, feeling the mattress sink slightly with her weight. Waiting awkwardly in the silence, she looked around her daughter's room. The theme of clashing darkness and shades of pink and black that strangely went well together, her daughter's personal touches in a hotel room, things of softness and modernization in the room of aged wood, rough stone, and comforting conformity. Pillows, stuffed animals, scraps of fabrics from crafting projects scattered in the corners, half-written, half-sketched things on the desk, pictures and posters taped to the walls. Everything had a nice, warm-glowing feel with the candlelight contrasting with the darkness outside.

Mavis suddenly mumbled something into the bedspread, making the woman look down in confusion, "What was that?"

"I said I'm not a little girl anymore." Mavis repeated sullenly.

She lifted her head to look at her mother through mussed-up bangs, settling her head down again to roll on her side.

_Yes you are,_ Martha wanted to tell her, but instead she sighed, looking at the floor, "I just want you to be aware of what's _out_ there, I want you to be safe."

Mavis was silent for a minute, before she spoke. "I can't be both, not really." Mavis said tiredly, sitting up.

"I can't be 'aware of what's out there' if you won't even let me go."

Martha scowled a little, but didn't let her daughter see it, turning away.

"Is my _knowing_ what's out there not enough for you?" she asked instead, hearing the hurt in her own voice, "Is my being with you so _terrible_...?"

"Is―? No, no, _Mom_..." she heard Mavis whine, feeling her press into her side, trying to get her mother to look at her, "I didn't mean it like _that_..."

"You know what humans did to monsters," Martha continued, not having to fake the bitterness, "You know what they _would _do if we show any weakness, what they _did_..."

"Mom, I'm _sorry_," Mavis cut in, tugging at the woman's cloak, hating when her mom got like this, "I'm sorry, okay? Please, just stop."

Martha quickly turned to hug her child, feeling the girl quickly breathe out in relief and embrace her in return. ". . . _I'm_ sorry," Martha said quietly, stroking her daughter's hair, "That wasn't fair of me, Mavis..." She felt the girl's shoulders shrug, but Mavis wasn't letting her go, "Oh, honey bat, you are a daughter of Dracula, and you are so much _more_, alright? Don't _ever_ think you are limited by your name. Or do you not like your name?" she asked, slightly joking.

Mavis shook her head again vigorously, burrowing her face into her mother's shoulder, and the women relaxed.

After a few more heartbeats her daughter sat back, coughing, trying to regain her composure, sitting to face her mother full on. "It's just," Mavis shifted uncomfortably, then revealed something else she'd been holding from under the birthday list, "You were out there all the time, weren't you? With Dad?"

Martha blinked, "What?"

Mavis shrugged, "Y'know, in paradise..."

Martha blinked at the faded, aged postcard in her daughter's hands, taken aback. "You mean Hawaii..." she corrected the girl absently, carefully taking it from her.

Mavis blinked politely, "Ha-what-what?"

"Never mind. Where did you get this?" Martha asked, tracing her fingers along the lines of the tourist-y cursive, feeling the rasp of dusty card paper.

How long has it been now?

"From one of your drawers. You don't really talk about him much." Martha glanced at her daughter, and Mavis continued, smiling a little at her mother. "Auntie Wanda told me how you were both always _out_ there, even around human places. Then one day you met Dad and you two just went like - _zing!"_

Martha chuckled, a little choked up on the memory, "Hmhm, well, he never really thought about the zinging thing. But yes, this is where we met."

She turned the old card over in her hands. It had lasted this long...

"Why can't we do stuff like that now? Just go to paradise?" Mavis asked softly.

Martha's fingers nearly clenched, before gently setting the card on Mavis's nightstand.

"You know the answer to that, love." she said calmly.

She felt Mavis's silent stare, before suddenly her daughter shifted to meet her eyes.

"What can I do," she asked Martha steadily, "To get you to trust me?"

The older vampire blinked, biting her lip, a habit of her daughter's that rubbed off on her at times, or maybe vice versa.

"I don't know," she answered honestly, smiling sadly as she brushed a stray strand of hair behind Mavis's ear, "It's not that I don't trust you. I just wouldn't be able to bear it if something happened to you..." Which to Mavis pretty much meant the same thing. When Martha saw the beginnings of a pouty bat face, she nudged her under the chin with a finger, seeing her husband's bright blue eyes in her daughter's face, "You _will_ get to go out there, one day," she assured Mavis, "I promise. Just please, don't ask again... Alright?"

Mavis sighed, nodding as her mother's hand cupped her cheek. The young girl looked thoughtful.

"I've thought of some other stuff, for my birthday." she said, changing the subject, and looked down at her blank list and grimaced, "Uh, in my head. I'll write 'em down."

Martha chuckled, "Everyone's coming over this week," she told her daughter, "Your aunts and uncles. They all decided to arrive early for such a big day."

Mavis's eyes lit up, "Even Uncle Griffin?"

Martha grimaced, "Ye-es, him too. Maybe."

The little vampire punched the air, bouncing them both a little on the mattress, instantly cheered up with a full-fanged smile, "That's awesome!"

The older vampire grumbled reluctantly at the thought of the annoying invisible man, but smiled a little herself.

"You'll have the 'best-est most special-est' birthday ever." she teased her daughter, who giggled in disbelief, surprised.

"You did _not_ just say that." Mavis laughed uneasily.

Martha nodded, purposefully pitching her voice to disgustingly sweet levels, "I di~id... Because it's going to be your _best-est most spec―"_

"LAlalalala~! Gah!" Her daughter looked caught between a laugh and a gag at the baby talk, waving her hand, "Out! Out, out, out, geez, I'm gonna get a toothache!"

Martha smirked, "Says the young lady who has a surplus stash of candy in her wardrobe?"

Mavis stiffened, "I never said I had - how did―? _Mo_-om, space!" she protested, shooing at the door.

Martha laughed, "Okay, okay, space. I'll see you at dinner, I hope?"

The young vampire nodded in confirmation, waving with a smile as Martha left.

. . .

Martha leaned against the door, exhaling with relief, "She's fine." she said aloud, smiling wistfully, then frowned, "It _seems_."

That _had_ been a suspiciously abrupt change of subject.

"Ooh, here we go again..." the shrunken head sighed.

"Hush up." Martha grumbled, thinking. That had been a bit too easy to smooth over. Knowing the girl, she was probably still restless. Still..._thinking_...

. . .

Mavis laid back down on her bed, staring at the canopy, chewing her lip in thought. So Mom couldn't think of a way to trust her. So maybe Mavis would have to take that into her own hands. She scavenged through her desk and found a map of the grounds of the hotel, and the plots of land surrounding it. She spread it open over her desk under the light of a fresh candle, scanning the parchment with a frown. It wouldn't be anywhere like Ha-Wee-Wee, but it _should_ be enough to get her mom to see what Mavis was capable of, what Mavis was so _sure_ of...

She remembered a chubby little toddler and a gawky little kid with an adorable smile, and smiled herself. She knew what she saw. She just had to get Mom to see it, too.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

_One week later..._

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Good evening, and welcome to Hotel Transylvania." Martha greeted the guests warmly from the stairs, "I hope you all have traveled well." Her face lit up, even as her smile stiffened into an instinctive grimace at the pack of werewolf pups that began to rampage through her lobby. She quickly relaxed when she met her friends.

"Wanda! Wayne!" she hugged her friend, smoothly avoiding crowding the swell of the werewolf's stomach, before turning to the husband, "I'm so glad you could make it!"

"So are we. It's nice to get out of the shadows for a while." he agreed, then his ears laid back unhappily as a crash resounded, followed by yipping howls, "Yeah."

Wanda chuckled, "It was a crowded ride, but it's always worth it. It's wonderful to see you."

"Yes, yes, it is good to see you and all your lovely children," Martha smiled indulgently, giving an affectionate pat to her furry cheek, "Let me just clean up their filth. Housekeeping!"

She noticed one pup gnawing on the hem of her cloak, gently picking him up by his scruff, "Now, you're, ah, Wilson, aren't you?" she asked. The little boy nodded nervously, her cape still trailing from his muzzle. She smiled, "This is a hotel lobby, Wilson, not a cemetery. Okay?"

"S'rry, Auntie Martha." the pup whined, and she gave him a gentle pat on the head before putting him down.

She looked around at the breeze that blew in through the room.

"Here comes the PAR-TAAAY!"

Mavis stared at the mummy sand-surfing into the hall, a wide grin in his bandages, "Wayne, Wanda!" She flinched when he came up to her, "Lady _Drac_, how've ya―?!"

"Sand, Murray?" she protested, quickly looming over him, showing him a palmful of the stuff, _"Always_ with the sand, for just one entrance could you _not_...?!"

Murray shrugged with a smile while more staff swept the evidence his arrival away, hugging her around the shoulder, "Aw, c'mon, Mar, chill a little."

She slumped, frowning, "I am the epitome of 'chill'." she stated flatly.

"Yeah-ha, like the _dead!" _the mummy laughed, causing a few zombies to scowl at him, and his eyes shifted nervously, "Uh, I meant cool, _cool_ like 'em."

"I'll get you a shovel to help you dig that hole of yours deeper." Martha decided to chuckle, patting him on the shoulder, "It _is_ good that you made it."

"Wouldn't miss it." he agreed soberly, smiling.

A couple of bellhops were tripped up by the rambunctious werewolf pups, one of their packages bursting open to let Frank's head tumble out.

Martha let Murray and Frank meet and greet, checking Eunice's box, starting back as a well-manicured claw of a nail neatly tore it open from within.

"Still traveling by 'express', I take it?" she mirthfully asked the flesh golem.

One of woman's hands began counting off its own fingers while she sorted herself out, "Hey, it saves us money, it stops Frank's whining, the packing stuff keeps my clammy complexion, and I don't have to share. Far as I know I'm goin' first class.'" Eunice giggled, putting herself together and embracing Martha, before backing off to look her up and down, an expression of polite distaste crossing her stitching, "Honey, seriously, you're gonna _have _to let me at your wardrobe at some point. I mean, let your hair down or somethin'. 'Belladonna of the Boardroom' is _so _last century."

Martha's smile twists, looking her friend up and down, "And how long have you had _that_ hair?"

"Ohh, don't you go there," Eunice warned, tapping Martha's brooch, "I go with what _works_."

"So do I." Martha countered, grinning as she patted the woman's shoulder, "So I'd like to think we _both_ work it, eh?"

But Eunice was staring somewhere behind Martha.

"Uh, what's up with your cape, girl?" Mrs. Stein asked.

Martha blinked, "My what?" Now she just noticed it hovering behind her strangely.

What was―?

She let out an uncharacteristic _squeak_ when something unmentionable occurred, whirling around angrily, cheeks flushed, "Okay, who did that?!"

"Sorry," a disembodied voice chuckled, "Couldn't resist."

Her eyes narrowed, glaring uncertainly at the empty space, "_You_..."

An attempted slap towards the voice earned her nothing but air.

"Missed me!"

Oh-ho-ho-kay, he was going to get it. She tried again―

"Whoops!"

Trying to―

_"So_ close!"

Claw.

His.

_Face._

"Doo~o duh-duh dum! _Can't_ touch this!"

Martha gritted her teeth, aiming another swipe at that irritating voice, claws extended.

"Ahh, this never gets old." Griffin laughs, putting his glasses on as she came at him again.

An invisible hand caught her wrist, and she blinked when she was suddenly in a tango form, which looked awkward when her 'partner' was invisible.

"Ya _miss_ me that much, milady?" he asks smugly.

Martha smirks, "How could I, when I never get much of a view?"

The glasses form a scowl when the others laughed at him, "Oh, har-dee-_har._"

Suddenly she was in a waltz dip, blinking at the glasses and the ceiling. "I think you still owe me a dance, don't you?" he suggested, playing it up.

Martha stared, then rolled her eyes, shrugging, "Fine, you win." she sighed, then reached into her vest as he straightened, sensing his surprise.

"But first, would you hold this bacon?"

He looked confused, taking the strip of meat, "Uh, okay? Why do you want me to hold this ba―GAH! AAGHAHAH, GET 'EM OFF!"

She laughed with the others when he was immediately swarmed by the majority of Wanda's brood, appreciating being able to 'see' the fool's desperate flailing.

Never gets old.

"So, where's the birthday bat hangin'?" Murray asked.

Martha sighed, her smile a bit more subdued as she moved to an elevator, "In her room. I'll see if I can coax her down. My little girl's going to be so happy..."

"You know, she's not so little anymore." Frank chuckled.

Martha suddenly faced him with bright silver eyes with black pinpoints for pupils and a face-splitting grin of FAR too many needle-fine teeth, making them all startle back. _"Yes she IS."_ the vampire said in a harsh hiss through her teeth, eyes unblinking, lips unmoving. Her eyes flashed orange with a brief blood-curdling _ROAR_ before resuming her usual polite, benign smile as the elevator doors closed.

. . .

"Woah, Lady _Drac_. Try _'Barracuda_ of the Boardroom', I right?" the invisible laughed nervously in the scared-stiff silence.

"Now, Griffin, she's just stressed." Wanda chided, "This is a big thing for the both of them. Vlad would be so happy for this..." she sighed, smiling wistfully.

"He is." Frank assured them, "And I'm sure Martha knows it."

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Hey, human!" Mavis said, waving with a small smile, "My name is Mavis Dracula and―" she frowned at the empty mirror, "No."

She tried again.

"Hi, I'm Mavis Dracula, it's nice to meet you, huma―no."

"Hello, human, I'm from the hotel and―no, that's not gonna work..."

"Um, hello, I'm Mavis Dracula! Yeah, I know, daughter of Dracula, but you don't have to worry, since we don't eat _real_―no, that's just _stupid_ - agh!"

"Why am I so awkward?!" she complained to the mirror.

The mirror didn't give her any epiphanies.

Mavis pouted, before stalking over her desk to look over the map again, tapping thoughtfully at a spot, yet frustrated. Sure, this was all fine in _theory_, but reality was just, well, _awkward_. How does she even _start _to talk to humans without sounding like some little kid or like her mother? She'd thought about practicing with some of the humans who came for the tours, but it either ended up that Mom 'intimidated' them off, or Mavis got stage fright and couldn't even approach one. The zombies or the living human staff couldn't qualify. It was the hotel that did it. It became clear that she had to approach a human unaffiliated with the hotel. But what could she even talk _about?_

. . .

Martha walked along the hall to the chorus of 'Do not disturb!'s, encountering a cleaning witch who smiled brightly at her, "Good evening, Your Grace!"

The vampire nodded with a brief smile in passing, "Good evening, Haggie."

Martha moved on, always slightly taken aback by some of the servants' apparent 'giddiness' in her presence. It must have been her suit that did it.

"Aaand looks who's back. High traffic today, folks!" the shrunken head observed.

"Is she up yet?" Martha asked bluntly, not in the mood for banter.

"Oh, yeah, she's up and about, plottin' and broodin' like you know _you_ do."

Martha scowled, irritated and slightly concerned, "I don't _brood_. I contemplate deeply. _Thank _you."

"Mmmhm, whatever you say."

She ignored the impudent doorknob hanger to go inside.

"Good evening, Mavis."

Mavis jumped, and with the quick speed inherent to her species covered up the map with sketches of clothing designs and other random junk.

"Mom, hey, evening!" she breathed out, facing her mother, trying to lean casually against her desk, a smile plastered to her face.

Martha's eyes flicked briefly to the now mess-of-a-desk, before smiling at her daughter, "Everyone's here."

Mavis nodded quickly, "That's great!" Then she calmed down, her grin softening to something more genuine, "That's...great."

"Yes... They're all excited to see you." Martha told her, "Why don't you come down now and say hello?"

Mavis's hands fidgeted nervously behind her fingers curling over the edge of her desk, "Um... Actually, Mom, there's something I want to..."

Before the young vampire could go on, her door already opened to let everyone file in, crowding Martha aside and practically hemming Mavis in.

"One more week, kid," Wayne chuckled, while Wanda and Eunice went to hug Mavis, "Congrats!"

"I was going to bring her down..." Martha said to Wanda, a bit put out.

"We couldn't wait." Wanda shrugged, smiling apologetically, paws on the swell of her stomach.

"So what crazy thing are you gonna do, 'sides party? You gotta do somethin' crazy," Murray asked excitedly, "Like that art of yours would make some sick graffiti!"

"Murray!" Martha protested.

"Nah, man, grow up, she's turning _118_ here," Griffin chastised the mummy, glasses frowning in affront, "I'd go for setting a hearse on fire."

"NO." Martha and Frank said flatly.

"Sheesh, what are you guys, seventy-three-year-olds? She's gonna be a young _woman_ for crying out loud," Eunice scoffed, "What this bat should go for is a makeover, hair, clothes, the works. Not that you need it, pretty girl," she assured Mavis sweetly, "It's just something every young woman should try out."

"Well, I thought of something," Mavis spoke up uneasily, getting everyone's attention, looking nervously at her mother, "I, uh, actually kind of..."

Martha was staring.

Mavis felt _really_ cornered.

"Wanted...to..."

Martha wasn't frowning, or glaring. Just staring. Watching. Very. Closely.

Mavis felt like sweating.

"To..."

Martha's eyes maybe narrowed just the _smallest_ bit. Mavis swallowed.

"T-to go, uh, make a light show out of a Tesla coil. From the hotel roof." she finished hopelessly.

For a moment everyone's paused, processing this.

Wanda patted Mavis's shoulder, "That sounds lovely, dear."

Martha looked confused.

"Now _that _I can help with." Frank said happily.

Griffin looked at the Stein, "Dude, you freak out over fire, but _lightning's _just fine?"

Frank scowled defensively, "Conductivity and combustibility are two different things, man, don't judge..."

"The makeover thing still sounds cool though, just nothing too big." she told Eunice, who smiled, pleased.

"A makeover is never 'too big'. We can make a girl thing out of it," Eunice looked at the other women, "Right?"

The females in the group nodded in agreement, while Wanda patted some of her own fur in thought.

Murray made Mavis laugh by silently mocking a 'dying' expression behind Eunice's back.

"Hey, Martha, got any mad scientists with spare Tesla coils rooming around here?" Frank asked.

"Check the front desk." the vampire replied absently, still looking slightly confusedly at her daughter.

"Cool. Hey, guys, come on, I got another idea to throw at ya. We'll talk later, Mar!" Frank beckoned a bit sneakily to Wayne, Murray, and Griffin, and the menfolk all crowded out of Mavis's room, Frank throwing a grin back at Mavis, "You're gonna have the best party ever, kiddo!"

Mavis smiled, a bit more relaxed, "Thanks, Uncle Frank."

For a moment the women stood there, Mavis still standing in front of her desk, a nervous smile still stuck to her face.

She coughed, "So, uh, yeah. It really is great to see you guys." she looked at Wanda, then down at Wanda's belly, blinking in surprise.

The werewolf nodded, "Wayne's hoping for another girl with this litter." she confided, looking proud.

Mavis smiled, "Congratulations. I look forward to playing with the pups." She shuffled on her feet, "Um, I have some writing I wanna do. I mean, ideas. For the lightning show thingy, I don't mean to run you guys out..." she looked uneasily at her mother, who gave a small, reassuring grin, "Of course, honey bat, it's alright," Martha told her, "We'll all have plenty more time to, ah, 'hang out' before the big day. We'll see you at lunch?"

Mavis nodded quickly.

Eunice gave her a hug, "Aww, you're so freaking cute you can't be turning this old already!"

"I'm not that old yet." the girl giggled.

"Enjoy it while you can." Wanda joked, "You'll be joining us after that."

They all laughed at Mavis's stunned expression.

"Okay, okay, we should let her settle down." Martha insisted, ushering her friends to the door, smiling back over her shoulder at her daughter, "See you at lunch, Mavis."

The young vampire waved, and then the door shut. Then she stood there, and waited. Three minutes.

Four.

Six.

Ten minutes...

Mavis breathed out a sigh of relief, and then turned to the window.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"I don't see what you were so _worried _about, Mar," Eunice grinned as the trio walked back down the hall, "No gushing about humans at all!"

"True..." the vampire murmured.

"She did seem calm." Wanda noted.

"Yeah, guess she's over that phase," Eunice went on as they went into the elevator, "And good thing, too. They judge us, they're suspicious, and they're really _loud!" _

"I guess it's good that you don't have to worry, Martha. After all, even if anything happens, the girl _is_ a Dracula." Wanda said more calmly, then Eunice and Wanda both blinked when they realized it was just them two in the elevator, "Uh... Martha?"

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

"Okay, _what _are you doi―?"

_"Sh!"_ Martha quickly silenced the doorknob hanger, pressed against her daughter's door with an ear to the wood, counting carefully.

Four minutes.

Six...

After ten minutes passed, she slipped in, and felt her heart fall at the sight of an empty room and an open window.

Yep. Mavis was a Dracula.

Feeling disappointment, hurt, and swiftly buried fear, Martha quickly moved to Mavis's desk, ruthlessly pushing aside layers of random papers and works to find the map that was hidden under it all, finding the place her daughter had circled with red ink. For a brief moment her face became a fearsome snarl, silver-eyed and slit-pupilled with the wickedest teeth.

That..._girl_...

_No_, this is fine.

This was alright.

This was going according to the plan.

Mavis had chosen the place Martha knew she would. Martha had suspected, of course, even if she had hoped it wouldn't come to this...

She quickly calmed herself, moving silently to the window, placing her palms on the windowsill, leaning out. It didn't take much looking before she saw the motions of a little bat flapping her wings through the dark night.

_Very well, my love,_ she thought to herself, an expression of business-like calculation coolly sliding across her face.

_You seek to challenge me, hm? I suppose that is your right._

Martha spread her own wings, flying swiftly after her wayward daughter, following her to the destination her daughter unknowingly played herself into.

_Just as it is my right to test you... _


End file.
